


Turning Gears

by Once a Bard (bossyluigi)



Series: DnD: An Anthology [4]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types
Genre: it's just a good trope, it's the closest thing to a fantasy underground as i could get, mafia? mafia, plus we love defensive brothers protecting little sisters, we love to see it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:40:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27813172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bossyluigi/pseuds/Once%20a%20Bard
Summary: “I know a lot of things about this town, about the people who live here, and the kind of business that goes on when no one’s looking.” The gliding of his fingers through the water ceases abruptly. “Have you ever heard of the Big Shots, son?”“No… I can’t say I have.”“Good, that means no one’s fucked up enough to get us noticed around here."This is the fourth in an anthology of short stories highlighting original DnD characters and the stories built around them, their backstories, and their adventures.These were written for NaNoWriMo 2019.
Series: DnD: An Anthology [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2034781
Kudos: 1





	Turning Gears

Gearington was where the rich lived lavishly and the poor scraped by. It was built to reflect the hierarchy of status and condemned each rung to reside amongst their classes. The lower levels were home to the poisonous, criminal underbelly as well as the cavernous docks for varying commerce and business provisions. A sort of suburban level sat above, accessed by lifts scattered throughout, all operated by military sanctioned warforged soldiers. Families took up residence in the apartment-style buildings that littered the crowded streets, designing their communities as they deemed fit and as the governing powers deemed acceptable. 

The higher levels opened to the vastness of the Redstone Rocklands, easily visible for miles and easily traversed with the assistance of the railroad. For those who considered Gearington their home, travel had never been their top priority unless it was categorized under the definition of escape. The wealthy wished to travel to escape the sights of the addicted gamblers, of the business class, and the lower classes wished to escape to avoid the watchful eye of Big Brother from the towering heights of the bureaucracy. Not a soul cared much for the other unless there was coin to be made. 

Of all the businesses to involve oneself in, the two main profiteers were those of the mining industry and those that took to the more criminal: debt collection shakedowns, blackmail, and the occasional job that only a few could stomach. If one could put up with Big Shot and his gang’s rigorous demands while keeping their head down and doing exactly as they were told the first time around, there was really no need for financial worries. 

Between the two evils, Big Shot felt to be the easier choice for the youth of Gearington while the older denizens opted for taking up pickaxes and heading into the mines, the perfect breeding ground for separated families, casualties, and the unknown dangers that lurked in the shadows. 

“You’re not going.” By then, it had been the third month that his parents had remained employed with the local mining operation, and prospects for increased wages hung above them all like steak above a starving animal. Continuing on was always one step closer to a heavier purse come payout. 

“And why not?” Amber eyes followed the couple as they readied their equipment, adjusted their work regalia, and turned to head out. “If I manage to get even a few hours then we’ll have enough for another loaf of bread or even some fresh milk! Do you know how great that would be?” 

“Firon, I’ve said this once already and I won't repeat myself. Someone has to watch Eve and we don’t have the money to pay for someone to look after her. Could you please listen to us, just this once, and stay home with your sister?” The woman, worn from countless hours of labor, worked up a smile. It wasn’t genuine, he could see it in her eyes, but the stern clearing of his father’s throat urged him to look past it. “It would mean the world to know that both of you were safe while we’re out.” 

“Now what do you say to your mother, boy?” A deeper set of eyes stared the teenager down. They had always been much colder than those of his mother as if no sense of love or respect had ever touched them. The intimidation tactic paid off in the end, forcing Firon to nod in compliance. 

Goodbyes were exchanged and soon the house was quiet. It wasn’t a home in as poor a condition as it could’ve been, but it wasn’t as put together as some of the other inns and residential buildings up and down the block. What they considered home was one large room for the four of them to cram together on two large mattresses shoved as far back into the corners as they could go to make room for a second-hand dining table, some mixed-matched chairs, and a kitchenette for meals to be prepared on a basic level. The sheets had faded over time from continual washing and reusing, pillows were without pillowcases, any scratches and damage to anything throughout the home had to remain, but all in all, it was still home. 

With an exasperated sigh, Firon turned to the child behind him, curled up and fast asleep on one of the mattresses. She looked almost identical to him: light hair, skin as smooth and rich as caramel, and a golden tint to her irises. Leaving her didn’t sit right to him after his parents’ pleas, but staying here when he could be adding to the family’s wages was too important of an opportunity to pass up. 

Hands ran down his face as he took a seat at the kitchen table. She would wake soon and he would be responsible for the routine of feeding her, taking her down the road to the public bathhouse, returning home to ready any clothes for laundering, and checking the extent of their food supply. Anything that could be bought with the few copper coins he had for the day to restock what they were low on was purchased after lunch and waiting to be cooked for supper. The days were always the same, following those steps exactly unless he was told otherwise. With a bit more coin, they could afford to eat heartier family meals, purchase sturdier cleaning supplies, buy fresher sheets to interchange with the ones they already had, or even pay for something entertaining like a trip to the local theatre once all four had a moment to breathe. 

His hopeless daydreaming distracted himself long enough that he barely took note of his sister rousing from her sleep. She stretched a bit before mewling lightly and letting her eyes flutter open. At first, she made no attempt to sit up, opting for lying silently, eyes affixed on her older brother. The age difference between them felt larger than it truly was for half-elves. While Firon was in his early twenties, his sister was easily less than half his age. She definitely couldn’t work, and he’d be damned if she was left to roam the streets on her own. 

“Mama and Papa leave yet?” The tenderness of her voice squeaked out through the silence. “Did they say goodbye?” 

“...Yeah, but you were sleeping. Are you hungry at all?” All they really had left were a few slices of bread and some butter his mother had attempted to churn on her last day off. He would've eaten it, but his sister, despite how docile she was, often complained of how hungry she was. Unlike their parents, he wouldn’t sugarcoat the situation they were in. If she wanted sweets of some kind, he would do what he could to explain how they only had so much. Everything was split between the four of them. Splurging wasn’t cost-efficient, but it wouldn’t matter if their parents allowed him a few hours in the mines as well. 

He didn't wait for an answer, opting to rise from his seat and fix her a piece of buttered bread and some heated tea leftover from the previous night. Within moments, it’s disappeared and, as he suspects, she inquired about the last piece of bread. There was no rebuttal. She needed it more than he did. She asked between bites if he was ever hungry to which he would shake his head and insist that she ate well. Their next meal was never a promise given his lack of skill and the desire to preserve as much as they could for when their parents returned. Eventually, she would figure out what he was trying to do for her, but until then, her ignorance was enough to aid in keeping her fed. 

The two worked together, rearranging things, collecting their money and belongings, and locking up to head to the bathhouse. Even with the misfortune and struggles of day to day life, one of the few things that shone that little bit of light were the walks to and from the bath. Artificial lights had been installed by the higher-ups and their warforged underlings to simulate the natural daylight that the higher levels of Gearington were gifted with. During the evenings, those same lights would dim, indicating when night had fallen, however, whether it was truly synched to the clock of the levels above could easily be called into question. Whatever daytime and nighttime truly were, none of the lower levels had ever really experienced it. As far as they were concerned, every living moment was dictated from the moment those lights turned on until the moment they shut off. 

“Can I ask you something?” As the two slipped out the back door of their building, Eve piped up. Occasionally they would have debates on morality, worries, and daydreams during these walks to the bathhouse. Answering whatever questions she posed to him was never easy, but he would try. 

“Shoot.” 

“Are you scared of anything?” The grip she had on her brother’s hand tightened slightly. “Anything in town… things you’re scared might happen or things you might have to do?” 

His gaze shifted towards her. The question was most likely prompted by something he wasn’t entirely aware of. “Like what? Do you mean stuff like spiders or heights or dark rooms— stuff like that?” 

Quickly, her head shook. “No, I mean more like things that you can’t stop. Things like if Mama and Papa don’t come home from work or we don’t have a way to get food anymore.” Both fears were valid given the population of their tier of Gearington and how little job opportunities were left for everyone. Not only that, but the work that was available in the mines didn't exactly guarantee safety. The threat of mines collapsing and the potential for workers to lose their lives was almost a given considering the conditions of their surroundings. Safety wasn’t promised for a job like this. 

As much as he hated answering questions like this, she was right. He shared those fears and chances were they also shared those fears with the countless other children left behind while their family members went off to work. Not knowing if they’d return came with the position. “Yeah… I’m always scared of stuff like that, but I try not to think about it.” 

“Why not?” 

“If I think about it too much then I get angry.” 

“Why?” 

“If I’m angry, then I’m going to want to do something about it.” 

“What would you do?” 

Firon dropped his hold on her hand, turning to kneel down at her side. “I can’t do anything about it, Eve. Mama and Papa won’t let me do anything.” 

“Why won’t they?” 

“Do you have to know?” 

“Yes.” 

Once again, he lifted a hand to his face, rubbing at his eyes to try his damndest to get rid of the oncoming headache starting to pulse behind his lids. “Look, all I know is that they want you to be safe and there’s no one else to look out for you during the day except for me, so I’m staying home to look after you and to take care of the house. Does that answer your question?” 

She was quiet. The only explanation was that she was thinking. She spent a lot of time doing that. What it was she was thinking about was more of a mystery left to be solved. It had only been three months of their parents’ employment with the local mining corporation, but it wasn’t too soon to start worrying about the possibility of a freak disaster taking their lives and ridding themselves of the finances they worked tirelessly to bring in. That reason alone was exactly why Firon had been fighting as hard as he could to find a way to bring in that extra bit of coin. Not only could they use it as a family but in the event that the two of them were somehow left to their own devices, there would be some money to survive on. 

“If there was somewhere you could go while I found work, then maybe they’d let me try.” No, considering something that would end up rejected along with his past attempts would get them nowhere. What was the point if they would just say no again? “All we have is each other, now stop asking questions or the bath will be too crowded by the time we get there.” A simple smile was enough to diffuse the conversation in the meantime. It would undoubtedly pick up again later, but for now, freeing their minds of the ‘what-ifs’ was for the best. He took her hand in his again and lead her onwards towards the bath-house at the end of the street. 

The bath-house was a three-tiered building, each with a plethora of rooms dedicated to bathing, showering, and even a laundry room off to the side just in case anyone wanted to make use of the hot water. It truly was a multifaceted establishment built and operated by the city. Did they take the time to clean, refurbish, and ensure that everything was clean and operable— on occasion? The only time anyone actually saw city officials looking after the place was when public service orders were issued due to some kind of problem with the pipes. Aside from that, the community had taken to keeping the place in order and relatively clean. If only they could come together like that to fight against bigger problems like the crises with job availabilities and the standard of living for just about anyone. 

One of the things about the bathhouse that was simultaneously welcoming yet oddly disconcerting was the fact that familiar faces tended to show up on particular days and times. After following the same routine for days on end, trends started to pop up. It was hard not to notice familiar faces, bodies, and voices. It was one of those things that made daily and weekly schedules more recognizable. A prime example was the same older gentleman that tended to sit alone in one of the side rooms whenever Firon and his sister would come to bathe. He was a portly gentleman that never bothered anyone, a human as far as one could tell, with a strong set of muscles that defined his upper body. The definition on his chin was further contoured by the shape of his facial hair and his cigar hid his features behind puffs of smoke as they swirled along with the steam from his bath. 

A few other faces stuck in his mind but that singular gentleman was the one that made the biggest impression. He never once went out of his way to initiate a conversation with anyone and if he did, the two were never there to see. By the time their baths were finished and they were prepared to head back home, the man would have vanished without a trace. Who he was, they had no idea. Only their speculation could piece together his identity, and only then it was still nothing but the work of the imagination. 

They slipped past the gate to the bathhouse grounds, holding it open for a family of four who scurried past and extended the same courtesy. A quick “thank you” concluded the confrontation. Normally they spoke nothing more than a few words to people in passing, but things were looking to be different. The private bath the portly gentleman tended to frequent wasn’t as private as it used to be. Instead of a single man, he was accompanied by a few rugged men at least twenty or so years younger than him but the wear of their skin and the scars decorating them aged them at least another five. 

A feeling of fear sparked in Firon’s core the moment his gaze met the man towards the center of the gathering.s. A part of him hoped and prayed his staring went relatively unnoticed, but the slight smirk of the older gentleman caught him off guard. His eyes grew wide and his pace quickened. They were to bathe quickly and efficiently before heading back home. Any opportunity to avoid confrontation with less than savory individuals was an opportunity he was willing to take, more so to protect his sister than himself. He could take them or at least slip away from them. Eve, on the other hand, was too young to combat men of that strength. Her safety was his priority. 

Avoiding contact with everyone else was in their best interest. There was no telling who was connected to those men or what their purpose was for convening in the bath. His mother had taught him as a young boy that judging a book by its cover was the worst way to treat a stranger, but in this town, there were very few people that wouldn’t stoop low enough to fill their pockets or secure themselves a better future. Who knew how many visited the bathhouse in between underground dealings, one-off shakedowns, or making even more morally ambiguous decisions. 

A part of him was relieved upon walking into the showers. Stools were practically empty apart from a few elderly women sitting and chatting amongst themselves. They didn’t pose much of a threat, which eased his fears enough to take a seat beside his sister and warm their water. A few raging fires along the edges of the room were prepped and ready to boil individual buckets. One of the elderly women had taken up a position overseeing the flames and making sure they were strong enough to quickly serve every patron who came for a hot and refreshing wash. 

Firon was quick to secure two pans, filling them both to the brim from the pumps along the opposite wall. Eve jumped at the chance to help her brother carry the pans and even sat beside him, listening intently as he tried his best to explain how to situate the logs well enough to urge the flames to reach the pan. Their little lesson earned them a grin and a few chuckles from the old woman, but she kept mostly to herself. 

Watching the water gradually bubble was satisfying in its own right. After long days of waiting for things to change, the entertainment of watching water boil was perhaps the only thing either of them looked forward to. In a few minutes, the rush of water across their skin would rid them of the filth that had collected in anticipation for them to dirty themselves again in the coming hours. 

The water started boiling within a few minutes and the two returned to their stools to clean themselves up. Eve was always bathed first seeing as she would complain if her nails stayed too grimy for too long. Something about the way she squirmed whenever she caught sight of her nails led him to believe she disliked dirt more than anything. This town was not for her if she couldn’t do so much as stand the sight of dirt. She deserved more than this. She deserved a roof overhead without holes and a bed that was solely hers. She deserved meals that would fully fill her stomach and keep her warm in the months when things were coldest. She deserved an education where she could learn the things she wanted to learn and could spend her free time doing the things she loved to do. This town wasn’t one that could cultivate the endless possibilities that should have been available to her. If he could, his hopes were to grant her that life. There had to be some way, be it funds or a way to escape the prison-like confines that Gearington held them within. 

The last of the suds were rinsed from her hair, leaving her glowing, something that she did naturally, dirty or not. “Why don’t you go dry off and get dressed. I won’t be too long.” Normally, she would assist him in scrubbing the grime from the lower quarters of his back, but he was more concerned with leaving and heading home than whether or not he could wash his entire back on his own. 

“Are you sure you’ll be okay by yourself?” 

“Of course. I’ll just rinse my hair off and then I’ll meet up with you.” He shot her a smile and nudged her off towards the door. “It shouldn’t take me more than a couple of minutes. You’ll be able to lace up your trousers, right?”

“I’ll see how much I can do, but if I need help, you'll help me, right?” 

“Of course.” 

She smiled in return, taking her towel and wrapping it around her shoulders. The fabric, worn with time and use, hung loosely by her knees, occasionally bouncing with the energetic youthfulness in her steps. For the first time in three months, he finally had a moment to himself. Of course, he enjoyed spending time with his sister. She brought an element of light into the darkness he’d be raised to grow accustomed to. Something about her innocent naivety was enough to convince him if even for a moment that things weren’t as grim as they appeared. 

It was something he enjoyed reflecting on, but that reflection was cut short by two sturdy hands that rested atop his shoulders. His body went stiff. Had he done something wrong? Was this some kind of hold up? Was he ready for death? 

“Don’t worry kid, we just want to have a word with you for a minute.” The voice was unlike any he’d heard before: gruff, guttural, but at the same time, there was an element of honesty in the way breathy chuckles loosed the tensity in the air. “You do have a minute to spare, right?” The hold on his shoulders loosened after stiff hands patted his bare skin a few times.

Common sense told him to keep to himself and refuse to turn and face them, but the fear in him encouraged looking at his “assailant”. Something already told him that he’d find the face at least partially familiar. 

Suspicions were confirmed as he slowly turned to meet their gaze. The faces before him were of two men, more than likely the scarred bodies he saw earlier with the older gentleman in the private bath. Their intensity still hung heavy in the air at first glance, but the way they spoke to him wasn’t at all what he’d imagined. Nothing about their attitude towards him alerted him to any danger, but that first impression upon walking in still stuck with him. “A spare moment?” 

“Yeah, nothing longer than a few minutes and then we’ll let you get on home. Don’t want to keep you here all day, you’ll shrivel like a prune if we did.” The first man spoke. His head was clean-shaven to expose a few odd markings that could be chalked up as birthmarks. If they were inspected closer, it was apparent they were actually odd symbols and sigils. His chest was adorned with scars. Some had healed better than others, but it made for a pattern of slashes and punctures that were oddly mesmerizing the longer you stared. The second man at his side sported long hair, it’s length a mystery given that it was tied up in a loose ball atop his head with twine. His eyes were sunken, making eye contact a bit more difficult, but the smile tugging at the edges of his mouth was seemingly genuine. 

Eve was probably dressed by then, waiting for him to come and meet her, but what was a few minutes of his time, especially if the unknown of saying no to these two would more than likely sour their mood. No matter how civil they seemed now, his conscience urged him to consider the fact that it was all a facade. Luring people anywhere was always easy with a bit of misplaced trust. Luckily for him, he was not easily swayed by a smile, a chuckle, and a pat on the shoulder. 

“What do you need me for?” 

“Our boss wants to talk to you about a job he’s recruiting for. Are you looking for work?” The man with the bun spoke up. Shapely arms folded across his chest as he did. “Every guy your age is looking to make a bit more coin nowadays, right?” 

There was nothing wrong with what he said. He had wanted to look for work, but any chance to put in the time was thwarted by his parents before he could even get out the door. “It… depends.” 

“Whatever it depends on, why don’t you talk to the guy who’d be hiring you. Whatever’s keeping you, we can always figure it out. We need someone for this as soon as possible and you’re exactly what we need. You think you’d be up to a little negotiating?” 

It was an answer to his prayers, a sign that he was in the right place at the right time. He didn’t have to go out looking for work when work had come and found him instead. Why should he not consider this opportunity? All he had to do was talk for a few minutes. All his questions would be answered then. “Alright. If you need me to talk to your boss for a little bit, then fine, I’ll talk.” 

The man with the bun’s smile stretched a bit further than before. “Perfect. If you want to grab your things, you can tag along with us. You probably know where we’re going already since you passed us on the way in. We’ll walk you there.” 

Without telling him where they were going, it was painfully clear: they worked for that older man in the private bath. What business the three of them were engaging in didn’t sit right with him, but it never hurt to ask his questions and figure out if this was an opportunity he’d be interested in truly pursuing. If anything, they had seen him come in with Eve and knew how important she was to him. They wouldn’t think of harming him so long as she was there waiting for him, would they? 

Approaching the room evoked a feeling of fear in the pit of his stomach unlike any kind of fear he’d ever felt. Whether this would be his last moments alive, he couldn't be sure. Whether he was delving into a den of beasts, he couldn't be sure either. Firon swallowed, hard.

This was a negotiation. He could speak openly to this man, at least that was the impression he was given. There was no harm in that, was there? 

Upon rounding the corner, he was met with the sight of that same man as before. He sat at the edge of the bath, a towel wrapped tightly around his waist and a robe draped casually over himself. His fingers pressed through the water, but he stopped to take note of the boy’s presence before resuming. “Firon Orlanea, right?” 

The boy’s brows furrowed. How did he know that? He rarely left the house, and when he did, no one was openly shouting his name from the rooftops. Of course, they could’ve heard it from Eve, but she never spoke their last name to anyone. “How did you know that?” 

“I know a lot of things about this town, about the people who live here, and the kind of business that goes on when no one’s looking.” The gliding of his fingers through the water ceased abruptly. “Have you ever heard of the Big Shots, son?” 

“No… I can’t say I have.” 

“Good, that means no one’s fucked up enough to get us noticed around here. They call me Big Shot. I run a little— business of sorts in the lower levels of Gearington. Call it what you will, but we make money and we keep the economy where it is. We make good money, we pay well, and we keep the trouble where it’s meant to be. Now, with that being said, I know you, I know your family situation, and I know the kind of person you are physically just by looking at you. We need someone like you to run a few jobs for us when you can. It’s nothing too taxing either, trust me.” 

“Before anything,” Firon spoke up, as respectfully he could, even quieting down slightly after speaking out. “I can’t do anything for you until I’m sure there’s going to be a way for my sister to be properly looked after. I can’t leave her at home by herself, my parents wouldn’t allow that. If there’s some way to ensure that she’d be properly cared for while I’m running errands for you, then I’ll consider agreeing to your terms.” 

“Ah, yes, Evangeline. I’ve taken the liberty of having some of my branches do some digging. You see, we’ve been looking for someone like you for a while: youthful, unassuming, relatively quiet, and of your build to not only throw people off guard but to get into some harder to reach places. We’ve connected some dots and we’ve found the perfect solution. There’s a gentleman, a distant relative of yours, perhaps you’ve heard of him before: Brother Iolas Ilias Orlanea?” Big Shot reached into one of the pockets of the robe, producing a photograph. The man was middle-aged by the look of it. A few of his features resemble his Father, the only difference being the stark brightness of his hair and the shape of his ears, they were a great deal wider than his Father’s. The title was enough to go off of: he was an aasimar given up to the Faith. 

“No, I haven’t heard of him before. Are you insinuating that I’m just going to hand my sister over to this guy?” 

“No insinuation, just an option. Of all the individuals we found sharing your surname, we came across him. According to my sources, he’s your father’s second cousin, the only relative to be blessed by the divine. He’s committed to his service and is a prime candidate for guardian until you can provide for her. While you’re employed with me, I will see to it that she’s taken care of. I will pay for her care and I will do what I can to aid you and your family in finding a place beyond the city walls once you’ve done all that I need you to do. How does that sound?” 

While it was happening rather fast, it was almost too good to be true. There was no promise at how long he would be working under Big Shot’s thumb, but the fact that there was work, a solution to his sister’s care, and a larger goal of finding that better life for the entire family— what more could one ask for? “It sounds wonderful… a bit too wonderful. Before I make any rash decisions, I feel as if I should talk things over with my family.” 

“There isn't enough time. If you want this position, I need you to make your decision by this time tomorrow. We have everything situated, all we need is your word and we’ll make things happen.” He reached again into his robe pocket and fished out a letter. The seal had been broken, but the letter was still there. “This is a letter directly from Brother Iolas himself if you’d like to read it tonight when you get home. You may speak of this to your family, but you are forbidden from disclosing any affiliations with the Big Shots, is that understood, son?” 

There was a good deal of time before his parents returned from work, which didn’t give him much time to discuss it with them, but if he made this decision on his own, they would all benefit. If anything, he’d much rather take the risk, take the job, and explain everything once they were free of this town, free of their responsibilities, and ready to take on the world beyond Gearington. They would never have to look back on the torment this town had put them through. What better chance was there than this one? 

“No need. I think I’ve made up my mind.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Firon was my first attempt at the stereotypical edgy half-elf character. I ended up being a bit of an angry boi with a heart of gold though. I can't help it. It happens naturally. A bit of his backstory was influenced by the DM and his worldbuilding. Gearington already had a history and the Big Shots already existed. He was kind enough to tell me in advance so I could build around it, and it worked out nicely. I had never had backstory elements play out in-game before, so it was awesome to get to play to that.


End file.
